Inescapable
by stefani teee
Summary: Harry/Draco, Godric/Salazar, Hermione/Snape, Ginny/Tom. One event in the past ripples on through time. There's more of a story to Gryffindor and Slytherin than you know.
1. Prologue

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Inescapable

By: Koneko ^Å^ a.k.a. stefani teee

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© Tale Spinners

Koneko-chan says!

Plot bunnies are strange things… they come along at the most inopportune times, but you can't just let them sit there… and in no way can you leave them all by their lonesome. *smiles cheerfully* Anyway, I do believe my friends have had a negative effect on me. Due to their not-so-subtle prodding, they had shoved me directly into the world of HP slash. So there you have it in the short and long, out of nowhere, I have gotten an idea for a half-slash fic. A long one? Who knows? I'm only a slave to my computer.

Ship(s) 

Harry/Draco, Godric/Salazar

Disclaimers 

Stefani: *glares hard at accusers* Do you honestly believe that my name is really J. K. Rowling? I would love it if it was of course, but how could any of you completely mistake me, one (slightly) obsessive fangirl for the great goddess of HP world creation?

Nanashi: *bluntly* Just get back to work.

Stefani: But they're comparing me to Mrs. Rowling!

Chibi-Relena: *blinks* Isn't that a good thing?

Stefani: *thinks hard* You know, you're right! *lunges at accusers, hugging them all* I've been complimented! I've been complimented!

Heero-chan: *watches fleeing accusers* I don't think that's what they intended at all.

Stefani: Nope. But they're gone now. So I can continue writing my fanfiction! *laughs semi-hysterically*

~*~*~*~

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Prologue

"Isn't there any way to make them stop?" she whispered, softly enough so that the only one who heard her was the woman huddled next to her, tears glittering in eyes that refused to allow them to fall. She watched with undisguised horror as the two of them continued to duel, their robes billowing behind them as they cast curses and counter-curses at each other. And she knelt there, completely powerless to stop them, or to help them.

The things that had happened in her past would have endowed her great power, more than

The other woman was clothed in robes of deep yellow, and she huddled beside her, hands clutching her wand tightly enough so that her knuckles were turning white, despite the look of false detachment. In this duel between two of the three people she most cared for, how could she choose which one she supported? "I don't know…" she replied, hopelessness finally overshadowing the emptiness of her tone. "I honestly don't know… they'll kill each other if something doesn't happen soon…"

"_Cru_—!"

As one the two of them gasped. Surely…

"_Expelliarmus_!"

A jet of bright light flew from the golden-haired man's wand, smashing into the other man's hand, his wand flung out of his hand, and flew in a great arc to hit the wall, clattering to the floor. That was it… from a simple disarming spell, he had lost. He stared after his wand as if spellbound for a moment, before the paralysis of shock broke and he turned towards the winner, who was watching him apprehensively.

"You won." His voice was monotone and blunt, as he ran a hand through the dark hair of his long bangs, allowing them to fall in front of his eyes, hiding them from sight as he lowered his head.

"I…"

"Be QUIET." The last word was spat out as a command, and he looked up, eyes stony. "You'll pay, love… on my life, I swear you'll pay…" his voice was nothing short of a low roar, and even choked with fury as it was, there was still a hint of the refinement that would normally have been in his voice.

Hands still shaking, the woman in yellow came forward. "That's enough." She told him, her voice as shaking only slightly, through her clenched lips, "You've lost… and now you will go…"

He turned to her, the fury slowly leaving his eyes, and a look of complete betrayal replaced it. "You too…?" he whispered, his eyes flickering first to her, then to the other woman who had not moved, had not spoken. "You knew we all disagreed with you… oh you stubborn fool…" she fell silent, and she allowed her face to rearrange itself into an expression of sorrow, "Why can't you understand?"

"There's nothing to understand. Not from you… Loyal indeed."

She bit her bottom lip to hold back any more words… he would never listen to reason now. She suspected him of being half-mad already. Instead, she shook her head, unable to hold his gaze any longer, her eyes dropping to the floor.

"Oh please…" the other woman spoke now, standing, her fingers clenching as she held up his wand that she'd retrieved. "Won't you reconsider?"

He gave another short, barking laugh. "Love, there's nothing left to reconsider. None of you know what it means to have even a _shred_ of pride left in you. Bowing to the wishes of everyone else out there…" he snapped the cloth of his sleeve in contempt, turning away from her.

"Then… we really do have no choice anymore…" He turned back, his eyes widened as she held up his wand, slowly and shakily, the fingers of each hand sliding to opposite ends. "NO!" he roared, leaping for her.

She snapped it, and a screeching of a harpy sounded twisted in pain, as sparks flew from the broken ends. She flung them down on the ground in front of him. He stopped short, staring at the broken pieces of his wand in horror. Her voice wavered, but she said slowly, "We cast you out."

"I will leave." The words were short and final, and he spat them out at her as he turned away, and the wreck of his wand. "But this is not over… it never will be over…"

He went for the door, but the other man barred his way. He started to say something.

"There is nothing I need to hear from you anymore." 

He started to go past him… but the other man grabbed his arm, wrenching him back, his actual strength barely restrained. "You'll always be everything for me…" he whispered, so that the women could not hear, "My friend, my enemy, my… lover. I'm sorry this had to—" he stopped and he kissed him, pressing his lips against the other man's desperately, as if still begging him, even when they both knew the situation was hopeless.

Roughly, the departing man wrenched away, shoving him. "There is nothing more between us… and there never will be. Ever." He disappeared out the door, green robes flying after him, and the two witches came towards the remaining man, silently. Softly, but swiftly. And he… he slipped slowly down the wall, the strength of his legs failing him and he knelt there in the grit of the dungeon floor and wept.

"Are you sure this was the right thing…?" asked the blue-robed woman, kneeling down beside him, her arms around him, offering comfort, but unable to actually give. Despite her brave words, she was hurting beyond imagination, and it tore her to see him leave.

"There was no other way… he had to go… And he…" His whispered words could barely be heard, and the ending words trailed off as he leaned into the woman's chest, hiding his face, his wand falling from his limp and clattering on the stone floor, rolling until it stopped, mixed in the pieces of the other man's past. 

She brushed a hand through his long, thick, golden hair. "Oh Godric…"

~*~*~*~

End Prologue.

Nanashi: A short chapter.

Chibi-Relena: Angel won't be too happy with that…

Stefani: *nervously* Well… er… this is only the prologue… ehehehe…

Chibi-Relena: *ominously* She _still_ won't be too happy with that…

Heero-chan: *growling* Just continue writing the next one.

Chibi-Relena: Yeah… and then you might upload the two of them at the same time… so Angel won't be in such a hurry to find and torture you. And maim _us_.

Stefani: *pats head* Meh, between you three and my huggable plot bunny, I'm sure it will turn out fine… *gulps* Er, I hope…

Heero-chan: Review or the rampaging slave driver, known as her best friend will destroy the authoress.

Nanashi: No more fanfiction.


	2. Chapter 1

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Inescapable

By: Koneko ^Å^ a.k.a. stefani teee

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© Tale Spinners

Koneko-chan says!

Christmas is gone now… and all those pretty presents and cards things beneath the tree… most of them stored in my room now actually… Anyway, about the prologue… I'm sure most of you figured out long before the end that it was about the Four Founders. *sigh* I like stories with that little tinge of mystery and plot twists. But with me, I'm better ignoring any subtle plot twists and just sticking with bluntness. But I do hope it worked out all right for most people to read.

Chibi-Relena: *pokes* Then do what you do best.

Heero-chan: Or Angel will have our heads.

Nanashi: On a silver platter.

All: *shiver*

Ship(s) 

Harry/Draco, Godric/Salazar

Disclaimers 

Stefani: *glares* Do I have to repeat to you that I do _not_ Harry Potter or any of the characters within?

Heero-chan: *raises eyebrow*

Stefani: *grumbles* Yes, I _do_ admit it now. I am not in denial… entirely.

Chibi-Relena: *raises eyebrow*

Stefani: *groans* Oh shut _up_! *stomps off*

Nanashi: *raises eyebrow*

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Chapter One

~*~*~*~

"You could have _saved_ him! You could have! After all these years we keep you in our home, you didn't lift a finger to help him!" screeched his Aunt Petunia, sobbing, barely restrained by Dudley, who kept his wide eyes on him. It was a good idea… otherwise, if Aunt Petunia had made any move on him, he really would have lost his temper, and there were an awful lot of breakable things in the hospital room. He had tried, of course he had, with all the limited medical skills he knew as a Muggle when one had a heart attack. How the hell was he supposed to use magic? He wasn't _allowed_! They knew that, they'd known that for _years_! But Uncle Vernon was still there, and with his large bulk, he lay there about as gracefully as a beached whale, on the hospital bed. Totally flat-lined. He was dead.

"How was I supposed to have saved him?" he snapped finally, glaring at his aunt. "I already _did_ try and do the best I could, considering you never let me take any of the First Aid classes any of the schools you sent me prescribed."

Aunt Petunia broke free of Dudley's grip, stalking up to her nephew, glaring up at him, now that he was quite taller than her, having turned sixteen only a while ago. "You're telling me," she spat, "that after disappearing off to that—that _school_ of yours, you've learned _nothing_?!"

His frown deepened and his voice grew flinty. "You're telling me," he said, in a tone that was deadly calm, and caused a nearby beaker to develop a sudden crack right through the center of it. "That after five years of your telling me how worthless I am, and what I'm learning, and what I disgrace I am, you actually think you can _depend_ on me to instantly become an available medi-wizard on hand? Do you mean to tell me that you can now expect a law student to instantly be able to perform open-heart surgery on a patient with maximum success if they studied a medical course in First Year University?"

Finally, Dudley spoke. "Forget him, Mum." He said, turning her away from Harry, for once with a look of slight understanding in his large, pale, vaguely stupid eyes. "We couldn't do anything either…"

"Oh Vernon… Vernon!" Petunia, collapsed over the body of Vernon Dursley and began sobbing anew as white-clad nurses rushed in, and Harry was swept away into the shadows as they crowded around Aunt Petunia and Dudley, professing their condolences. He moved out of the way of a doctor rushing in as well, and slipped silently out of the small room. He didn't belong here. He knew this now, more than ever before.

The last look he had into the room was Dudley watching him, once again, amidst all the white-clothed medics and his bawling mother. Maybe Dudley had understood a lot more of what Harry had gone through then he had ever let out. Harry turned away.

He was going back to Hogwarts. And until next summer, he wouldn't have to face this nightmare. He'd leave a note. Then he would go. It was the first of September. If he took the tram, he'd be right on time to catch the train. He didn't care about the odd looks and the whispers anymore. After all this time of dealing with odd looks and whispers in both worlds, he had become used to it.

~*~*~*~

"Lucius! Oh my dear—Lucius!" the man staggered up the stairs on the grand staircase of Malfoy mansion, being held up and led by several warlocks, two wizards following behind them in silence, all branded with the Dark Mark. Narcissa Malfoy rushed down the steps, golden hair flying as she rushed towards him. "What happened?" she demanded of one of the warlocks, a young man named Malcolm.

"Very sorry, Ma'am," he said, averting his eyes, as she went to her husband, her hands fluttering across his face, as he stared blankly back at her. "I couldn't… none of us could do anything to stop it…"

"What happened?" she insisted, looking back up at him, her face tight, as she held back her wrath, and her tears. She was holding her husband now, holding onto him tightly and he did nothing, but stared, and continued to stare.

Malcolm looked to his feet, "The Dementors took him, Ma'am… the Dark Lord was… fed up with his failures to capture the Potter boy and bring him back. And Lucius tried to argue with him… didn't want his son getting the Dark Mark just yet…"

"You mean he's… lost his soul?"

Malcolm shuffled his feet. "No…" he finally admitted, "The Dark Lord loves the twisted games he plays… he stopped the Dementor before… before it was finished…"

Narcissa looked up, confusion marring her aristocratic features. "How?"

"He… destroyed it. Lucius is alive, and he will be able to regain more of his mind than any other victim of the Dementor's Kiss… but he will never be the great man that he was. He won't be a Death Eater any longer. The Dark Lord cast him out… he said he needed him no longer." He jerked up the sleeve on Lucius' arm. The Dark Mark still on his arm had been twisted… blurred and smeared somehow.

"It means he's no longer one of his elite. He's a minor Dark wizard now… and if he should ever regain enough of his mind…" he shook his head, "I don't believe Lucius would stand for it."

"No… no he wouldn't." she laid her forehead down for a moment on his, her eyes closed before she lifted her head again. "Thank you. For bringing him back. Will He be angry at you?"

"He wanted us to. Wanted us to bring back the details of your misery." He looked abashed, "It was what he asked."

"Then give him what he wants. Tell him of my grief. That I tore my hair, and I wept, and I was crazed and my son had to hold me back." She nodded to the rest of the silent ones, and slowly, supporting her husband, with as much dignity as she had left in her, returned to their house, the large doors closing behind them.

Draco Malfoy had just descended the grand staircase when he caught sight of the two of them. His mother barely able to hold up his father, and in a rush that betrayed his sudden, immediate concern, he was beside them in a moment, steadying his father as he and his mother levered him into a chair.

Narcissa's voice cracked more than once as her show of bravado finally failed her and she began sobbing, as she explained it all to her son. His lips tightened and he fisted his hands at his sides. Narcissa was hugging Lucius Malfoy's head to her chest, sobbing over him, running her hands through his blond hair and kissing his forehead.

Draco gritted his teeth and turned away from the sight. He had no way of dealing with this. He was not an overly emotional person. Neither was his mother for that matter, but despite public gossip amongst some of the older witch set, she loved her husband, and he cared for her. _Had_. Did he even care anymore? And he had cared for Draco as well… in his own way. He had wanted the best for his son… always, and Draco had known it, even though most of his younger life was spent with hours of being sullen. It was true… he had been quite spoiled with his powerful figure of a father to look to. Now… even though he didn't so much any longer, he had always had the reassurance that he _could_. What would he do now?

He walked out of the room, snapping his fingers, a House Elf appearing at his feet. "Yes, Master Malfoy?" it squeaked and he snapped his orders for his trunk and his owl to be brought to the front door. It was the first of September; he was returning to Hogwarts. And no matter what, he knew very well that he couldn't do anything. His mother was grieving, his father was in a state that had been dubbed worse than death by the wizarding community. He would kiss her goodbye. Then he would go. He'd take the private carriage. He had always avoided public transportation, and now was no time for an exception. The public would find out about this sooner or later, and though he was used to dealing with either negative or positive publicity, he wouldn't have to face this nightmare in the face at school than he would if he stayed. And if he was away from it all… he could deal with it.

~*~*~*~

End of Chapter One.

Be happy, I have finished writing this right when I'm supposed to be prepping for an exam I have tomorrow. The plot of the story will come out soon enough, but for now… there was a need to fill you all in on the details of the past and present. And yes, the parallels between characters were intentional. Tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 2

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Inescapable

By: Koneko ^Å^ a.k.a. stefani teee

Koneko-chan Says!

Allo!! *groans* Don't blame me for the late update on the first chapter. It wasn't _my_ fault FF.net went down. *pouts* And I actually liked the first chapter! Bugger.

Chibi-Relena: *shrugs* You know it always come back. It's like a cold.

Nanashi: *sneezes* *sniffles* *glares at Chibi-Relena* You did not have to mention my having a cold.

Heero-chan: You have a cold. Deal with it.

Male Muses: *glare at each other*

Chibi-Relena: *looks around her innocently*

Steph: *groans*

~*~*~*~

Severus Snape disliked Transfiguration. He honestly did. There was always so much wand-waving nonsense as well are improperly-intoned incantations which made the object implode on itself instead of changing it into a mouse… especially with most of his fellows. Of course, he could not accuse them of that. He stared down at the wreck of a teacup, which had issued a loud "BOOM" as he'd attempted to transfigure it, and had let out a blast that might have met the Muggle 3.5 on its Richter scale. Professor McGonagall had raised an eyebrow at that.

Dammit.

So it was with great relief that as soon as the class was over, he had already had his things packed, and he was the first out the door, and into the freedom of the halls…

"Snape! A word please?" He stifled a groan, before stalking back into the classroom. "Yes, Professor?" he asked, walking up to Professor McGonagall's desk. She was a new teacher, and quite young as most teachers at Hogwarts go (considering his History of Magic professor), but right from the first, anyone who looked at her could tell that she was all business. And she was an Animagus. That had been impressive enough to startle any one of her unbelieving students that someone as young as her was incapable of the job. It was a well-known fact that becoming an Animagus was one of the most difficult magicks you could use on yourself.

"I am well aware that I am not your Head of House, Mr. Snape," she began, readjusting her spectacles as she spoke, "but I was asked to speak with you because of… some unusual circumstances regarding you and… my House."

Severus stared at her. He was a Slytherin. McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor. What the hell had he to do with Gryffindor house? "What unusual circumstances…?" he asked slowly, shoving a long length of black hair behind his ear, which had escaped the queue that usually held his hair back at the nape of his neck.

The Professor stood up, "Perhaps you have heard Professor Binn's telling you about the Four Founders?" she asked him, crisply. He raised his eyebrow, "Of course… any Hogwarts student would." He was beginning to wonder even more at the reason of this seemingly pointless conversation.

"Then you know very well of Gryffindor and Slytherin's… feud?"

"Yes…"

"Well then. Was it ever revealed to you that they were once lovers?" Snape felt his eyebrows lift as high as they could possibly go. No, this had never been written down in _Hogwarts: A History_…

"Dumbledore has appointed me to tell you of this shrouded history of two of the Founders… because I was once… under those very same 'unusual circumstances'. But there is a class coming into this classroom in less than five minutes… would you be willing to come with me to my office to discuss this in… full detail?"

"Yes Professor." He replied, monotonously. That was how all students addressed their teachers, no matter whether or not they actually agreed.

"Good." she said briskly, "I'll be sure to send a student down with a note telling of your leave of absence. Now follow me."

He followed her out of the classroom, feeling even more confused than when he'd walked in and had a teacup plunked down in front of him and was told him to transfigure it into a turtle.

Snapping her fingers, a pedestal moved to the side of a blank wall revealing a door. Severus had barely had time to blink before she tapped the door with her wand and whispered something, stepping back as the door opened. "Well, come along… we don't have all day."

Numbly, he complied, walking into the room cautiously, grimacing at the garish amount of Gryffindor colors in one corner which he was sure was her own version of indulgence. The other parts of the room were stripped of anything but the bare necessities and a simple framed oil painting that stared down at him sternly through small spectacles. Ah, McGonagall's mentor. He could see where she had gotten that expression from…

"Now. Snape."

She gestured to a chair in a corner of the room and it zipped obediently to the opposite side of the chair. "Sit."

He sat.

"You already know who the Founding Four are I assume, if you have paid attention to anything of what Professor Binns says in his lectures, and I have already informed you of something that has been omitted in the historical texts of this school."

"If you don't mind me asking Professor… how do you…?"

"How do I know this?" she smiled a rare smile, "Well… I suppose it must start from the beginning. Slytherin and Gryffindor had always been rivals… ever since the beginning… Salazar had once been the more powerful wizard of the four, and it was he who had been Godric's mentor, who had taught him much, and Godric resented him for it. All of them had prized different qualities in their handpicked students, you know what they are. Helga chose loyalty and hard work, Rowena chose intelligence and wit, Godric chose bravery, and Salazar chose ambition.

"When the four magical practitioners were establishing their school, they began the immediate concern of constructing their castle of stone with magic, for not only did they have their own respective qualities that they prized, they had their own 'power' or an ability to Call a specific element. Gryffindor had the ability to Call Fire, Slytherin was Water, Ravenclaw was Air and Hufflepuff was Earth. And stone is of the earth at its very base, and very slowly, stone by stone, with the strength of her mind, she directed the dance of the Earth spirits to the castle's construction. The four of them worked well together, they were a team… but it was hard. For Fire and Water are two opposites, and while Gryffindor was out-in-the open and blazingly passionate about proving himself, Slytherin was of the subtler sort, self-assured, but always looking for ways to be more than he was, even greater. Indeed, so were the two women, who had had a not as intense rivalry, perhaps you might say they both had a competitive spirit about things. 

"However this was still in the times that some of the lower demigods and demigoddesses still roamed the Earth, and all members of human fantasy walked the forested paths that surrounded the foundations of the school and swam freely in the lake. One of the immortals among these was the ever-sleeping Endymion, the earthbound mortal whom a goddess had fallen in love with, weaving a spell around him to keep him youthful and dreaming for all of eternity alongside her. As it happened, the moon goddess would come down to Earth on the white moonbeams at night and bathe him in her otherworldly light. Selene, the moon goddess had around her neck a pendent of moon crystal, found at the very core of the silver satellite. Originally there had been only Two of the Founders, Salazar and Helga. The finding of Godric was credited to Salazar himself.

"And so, it had been on one of Salazar's nightly jaunts that he came across the sleeping youth, bathed in moonlight on a large gray rock, and a shimmering shiny thing dancing daintily towards him from the sky. He stepped back, knowing well enough it did not bode well to be between a goddess (a demigoddess really, but one with more power than he) and her human lover. But she saw him, and he expected a swift magical blow to fall on him right there and then. But she simply held out a hand to him, her skin glowing a pale, marble white light, and smiled. He took it carefully, pressing his lips against it, his eyes always watching her. He above all else knew that appearances could be deceiving.

" 'You are a mortal…' she noted, her lips curving into a slight frown, 'You are like him.' she said, motioning to Endymion, still lying there in his eternal slumber. Salazar nodded, not knowing what else to say, 'Of course, my Lady. You will remain ever youthful long before my bones have become nothing but dust in the Earth.' For Salazar Slytherin had his own suave charm, however not without his own hint of vulnerability. It was one of the reasons the two females of the original Three were always keeping him under their wings, trying to 'protect' him. And Selene smiled. 'I could make you like him, you could live forever in your dreams…'

"He refused of course, as charmingly as any man ever could. But he did not walk away from her, and she accepted his offer of company as she sat herself down on the rock beside her lover, stroking his long silky golden curls with her marble-white hands, smiling softly down at the dreaming youth. 'I wanted to give him immortality.' She confided to Salazar after a while, 'But I learned enough from my sister who was foolish enough to ask our father for that gift… and her lover,' she snatched at something from one of the long blades of grass, is now one of these.' She held out the quivering grasshopper in her palm, allowing it to leap to its freedom. 'And my father does not hold enough love for me and my sisters enough to bestow more than one gift on a mere mortal.'

"They spoke till morning began to dawn, and the pale glow from her skin grew fainter and her face was shadowed in sadness as she bent down and kissed the figure on the rock once more. And with a slight wave at Salazar, still sitting there in the grass damp with dew, she ran up lightly into the air, on the faintest of moonbeams, back to her home.

"That would not be the last time, there was many a night that Salazar slipped out of the castle like water, and found that same moonlit rock where the youth slept, and always, he found her there, holding him, kissing him, running her hands through his hair. She loved this boy, this Terran mortal, and he could sometimes spend hours watching her as she slipped into his dreams, unraveling them in the gentle motions of her hands, and the constantly changing shadows over her features, like clouds over the face of the moon.

"He learned to love her. Not the type of love that would bring himself to let himself be taken over by her sleeping spell, and to dream forever like her Endymion. She had given all of that part of her heart to him, and he knew well enough from the beginning that he loved her as the goddess that she was. She was on too high up a pedestal for him to ever love completely and utterly. But he did adore her. And she knew this. She was a demigoddess you must recall, and she was not used to being worshipped like the rest of the Higher Gods and Goddesses, and she was flattered, and she found that same type of love for him in herself. 

"He had noticed her sparkling pendant before, but had dismissed it as another piece of jewelry, akin to the golden-beaded bracelet on one delicate wrist. But she had soon confided in him, telling it held her own immortality in its core. She was a Moon Sister, and without it, she was a mortal. Albeit, a mortal who was magically powerful.

"And down into that moonlit clearing with the shining youth under light of the moon, Salazar waited always at the earliest of twilight. He had found to his surprise that these nightly visits to the moon goddess had left him not sleepy or tired during the day as he had expected, and that he was as restful as if he'd had a full night's sleep.

"The demigoddess had not yet appeared yet that night, and he seated himself in front of the rock, under the slice of moonlight that the trees of the Forest allowed through their thick boughs, because, as you know, then the monsters that roamed had not yet come into being. And he waited for her, though the moonlight that night was but a sliver of a white crescent in the sky, and Endymion's long, lithe body was barely illuminated.

"It was that night that what seemed like the impossible happened. But first you should know the basis of the world known as 'Heaven'. Each Muggle religion has a place in that world, because they are created from the spiritual beliefs of the mortals. That is the real story of creation of the gods and goddesses and all the many mystical animals we have now, from the strong beliefs of those that some of us deem 'unworthy' because they have not an ounce of magic running through their blood. But that was the day that the power of the Greek gods and goddesses finally broken, for before, it had been the reigning ultimate belief, because it had been shared by both the Greeks and the Romans, though they refused to deem them the same. So, that night, as the power passed from the Olympians to the Angels of Christianity and God, Selene's long-standing spell over her lover broke.

"In front of the two men, the youth stirred, and they saw the slim form of Selene come rushing down on her moonbeams. She was crying as she took her place beside the wakening Endymion, his head in her lap as she hugged the head with the golden curls. 'Oh love,' she whispered into his ear as his eyelids fluttered, 'I wanted to keep you with me for all eternity… oh my dear Endymion…' The tears of her grief ran down her pale cheeks, the glow of her skin illuminating them in radiant flashes of light. She was too absorbed in what was happening to notice until she sensed Salazar at her side, not touching her, nor her lover, but right at the edges of the rock, as if wanting to give comfort, but knowing there was no hope.

"There were tears on her face as she looked up. 'He will die now… my magic can no longer help him…' She shook her head, so that her hair flew in a cloud around her face. 'So he really shall be like me…' whispered Salazar, 'A mortal.' She looked up suddenly, eyes flashing, 'Yes, a mortal! And could he ever be happy knowing that he will _die_?' Salazar eyed her truthfully, 'He knew this before you cast this spell upon him, did he not? He knew of old age and death before you ever appeared in his dreams.' She turned her face away, hiding her face behind her hair. 'I want him to be with me…' she whispered, 'I want to be with him…' He was stirring again, and his eyes fluttering, and she had mere minutes before he _would_ awake after so many hundreds of years.

"The two bright flares of light that appeared suddenly in that quiet grove nearly blinded Salazar as he stumbled backwards, his hands scrabbling at the rock to regain his balance as he fought the dizzying brightness of the two new entities. Their brilliance dimmed some, as soon as they took notice of the mortal's eyes, a few moments before their auras blinded him, or worse.

"The goddess Selene looked up at them with hollow eyes. 'Lethe.' She said, greeting the first, 'Mnemosyne.', she said to the other. 'Are you here to sneer at me too for loving a mortal?'

"Then, Mnemosyne spoke, her voice ringing and musical as the other stayed silent, 'No love,' she told her, 'We're here to give you a choice.' Selene's eyes brightened, as Endymion uttered a small groan against the shining folds of her gown. 'You can help me?'

"The other goddess, Lethe shook her head, 'We're here to give to give you a choice,' she repeated Mnemosyne's earlier words, 'You can either rejoin the shining throng of the Immortals, or you can choose to live in the mortal world.' Selene was shocked beyond belief, 'But… that would mean that I…'

" 'Would lose your mortality, yes." Lethe confirmed for her. And Mnemosyne smiled sadly, 'Those words were given to us to give to you. We cannot change anything.'

"Selene's words were… 'Would you like some crumpets?"

Snape blinked, before focusing on the plate of crumpets sitting on a plate on the desk in front of him, McGonagall nonchalantly buttering one.

"Er… Thank you…"

If he hadn't looked down to take a crumpet from the plate, he would have seen the mildly malicious smile on McGonagall's face, having very deftly, in Muggle terms, 'left him hanging'.

"Now, I know all this will probably come to you as a complete bore, as it sounds almost close to what Muggles know as fairy tales… but it will probably be best for you if you know well the history of the Four Founders… It would help you… predict future happenings easier."

"Then if you should continue…"

"Oh! So you _are_ eager to continue to hear the rest of the tale? I must have been mistaken, mightn't it be true that you actually are _interested_ in hearing what I have to say?"

If Snape had been anything other than a Seventh-year male Slytherin, (or just being Snapish, which might have been the case as well) he would have been squirming in his seat, just the slightest. But sadly, this is Snape, and as much as McGonagall had done to withdraw him from the realm of reality, it seemed too far out of the normal to see seventeen-year-old Snape turning red and wriggling in his seat. 

"Ah well, if you insist, I suppose I will continue… anyway, Selene said, 'I want to be with him.'

"At this, the two higher-ranking goddesses stared down at the miserable demigoddess. 'You know this is what you want?' demanded Lethe. 'It would mean you would no longer have any memory of the Immortal world. Your eons of life would be nothing more to you in your mind. And you would never have his love.' She cast a contemptuous glance down upon Endymion's face.

"Selene's face had paled beyond imagining. 'What?'

"Mnemosyne's sad smile confirmed it. 'We're sorry, dear one… but that is what the Fates have told us. There are two destinies you can choose. One as a mortal, to be near him, but never to have him, or to return home to us.'

"Selene then looked down at the man in her arms and the tears rained down her face once more. 'You make my decision more miserable than any other I have ever made ever has…' she whispered, before squaring her shoulders. 'I choose him. I want to be with him. No matter what the price.'

"Lethe was about to say something, but Salazar finally spoke up. 'My Ladies,' he said slowly, bowing to the two of them, 'but do you not believe this decision you give her is a horrible one?' he asked as politely as possible.

"Lethe shot him a quick, sharp look. 'What is it to you, mortal?' she snapped, 'You know nothing of Heavenly affairs.' A lesser man might have quailed under the look of hers. Lethe was not a necessarily hard-hearted goddess, but eons of giving the gift of Oblivion to the dead souls of men had crafted her so that she viewed the mortal world with a detached way, avoiding the pain in her heart as every man, woman and child, forgot.

"Salazar spoke up, 'I have learned that even over the centuries that passed, she still loves him. But he has been dreaming… he never knew her, and you mean to say that he won't return her love if he wakes up. But if she chooses to be with him… make them both forget. Make them forget of their pasts and let them stay here. My old friend and I will be there for them. But only if that is what she chooses.'

"Mnemosyne nodded, smiling softly, 'You are a thoughtful young man.' She noted, 'and you know with what ways to have your ideals met. You know of the power they both have.' Salazar lowered his head, 'It would have been helpful,' he admitted, but he raised his head, 'But Helga and I are going to have this school come into being with or without any help. I know Selene more than I know of any other goddess and I believe that she deserves at least to forget…" he looked to Lethe, 'You have the power to do so… And if it happens… the two of them might love each other again…'

"Mnemosyne nodded again, looking towards Selene, 'Well then? Is your decision still the same?' Selene's nod confirmed her fate. 'I won't ever be with him if I'm with the immortals. But if we both forget… something might happen again…'

"Lethe then proceeded to sigh, shaking her head as she did so, 'You always were hardheaded in your own way…' She held up a hand in front of Selene's brow, palm facing outwards. Mnemosyne, goddess of Memory did the same, and together, as Selene closed her eyes, a bright flare of light flashed up from their hands, and the combined voices sent the word, '_Obliviate_' ringing through the glade. Selene sat there with a vacant expression in her eyes, just enough time for the two goddesses to do the same to Endymion.

"Salazar witnessed it all, and he also witnessed the taking of Selene's immortality. Taking advantage of the effect of their combined magicks, Mnemosyne gently undid the slender silver chain, on which the pendant hung, removing it from her. Instantly, the white glow of her skin disappeared, and the moonbeams, that had seemed almost tangible in the air, faded into nothing more than a faint light. Endymion's eyes were open and staring, as vacant as Selene's own. Later on in history, the magic that the goddesses had worked on the two of them would be recreated by Salazar himself and dubbed a 'Memory Charm'. But for now, all he could do was watch as his goddess, who had once stood upon so high a pedestal he could only look upon her with awe, became mortal, became an equal.

"As if it had been nothing, the goddess Lethe then turned to Salazar, and just for that moment, it had seemed that she was crying. But the bright glow around her skin made him look away and when he looked back, he saw nothing more than a beautiful, but terrifyingly cold Goddess of Oblivion. 'Give me your hand,' she told him, almost imperiously, and even he, a lowly mortal could tell the pain she was hiding so well. He did as she asked, quickly and without question. But he was more than surprised when he felt the cool hardness of Selene's pendant in his hand. He looked up, his eyes wide. 'Do you… do you want me to take her place?'

"Lethe laughed, but it was a harsh, ragged sound, 'No. Never. But it will give you power. You will need it later on… You will never be immortal, but with it you have the power to lead those two. And they will need guidance. The memories that Mnemosyne has given them are all false, and I have sealed their own true memories in my Oblivion. You will remember all that has taken place, but you will also know too what they remember. Your school will flourish, mortal, but your future has not yet been set. You will do great things… but that is not to say that they will not be terrible.'

"The two of them disappeared with another flare of bright light and again, Salazar was blinded for a few moments, as he blinked the bright sparks of light from his eyes. On the rock, where Endymion had lain for so many long years, lay a single bowl of crystalline water. '_Drink_', whispered Mnemosyne's voice from nowhere. Taking it up, he drank, and the years of memory flowed through him as he learned what the goddess and the shepherd now believed to be the truth.

" 'Where are we?' asked a slightly quavering voice from behind him, and he turned, the bowl crumbling into a shower of golden dust. Selene sat there, holding a hand to her face, blinking rapidly, and, from where he lay on the grass, Endymion was sitting up, looking just as bewildered.

"Salazar managed a smile, closing his hand, and hiding the moon goddess's pendant from view. In his mind, the marble pillar beneath the goddess Selene crumbled. 'We're nearly back at the castle, Rowena, Godric… Helga is waiting for us.'"

Severus Snape's head snapped up at the sound of the shrill music of an old clock in the corner, announcing the fact that that morning's classes were over, and it was time to go to the Great Hall. He had become too engrossed in the words of Professor McGonagall that he had lost all sense of time, or of his surroundings. He sat back in his chair, his eyes still wide. "How do you know all this, Professor?" he asked her, almost hesitantly now, as her eyes seemed to have clouded with memories. "I was a Potential, Snape. But I was never a Chosen One. And that made all the difference."

Snape was silent waiting for her to continue.

A crooked smile found its way onto her face, and she said, without a hint of slyness in her tone, "Well, we can continue the storytelling tomorrow. You may go now." And refused to utter another word.

Severus Snape disliked Transfiguration. He honestly did. There was always so much wand-waving nonsense as well are improperly-intoned incantations which made the object implode on itself instead of changing it into a mouse… especially with most of his fellows. But as he was waved out of McGonagall's office, he found that he very impatiently (unusual for a student so very interested in Potions) wanted it to be the next day already where he had another round of Transfiguration techniques waiting for him… and the continuation of her story.

He groaned as a sudden thought struck him… damn it all, was that tale she'd spun the oral equivalent to a trashy romance novel? He could just imagine it, seeing himself many years later, some sort of strange cross-dresser, a horrid figure dressed in some long frilly dress robes, wearing a hat with a moth-eaten stuffed vulture, and swinging a large green handbag crammed full of romance novels. He ate mechanically after that, his mind very much disturbed by his own imagination.

~*~*~*~

And that's the end of chapter two. I know, nothing really happening in this chapter, but I found it interesting to write. I never thought I could make up the school's history, even though I know I had to… but I did it! And I'm rather proud of myself if I do say so myself. Anyway, the story of Selene and Endymion really is an ancient Greek myth, and the mention of the 'Chosen One' somehow found its way out, though it was not intentional to be all 'Buffyish'. I merely have a fondness for capitalizing. Anyway, 'chosen one' doesn't look _as_ striking, does it?


	4. Chapter 3

****

Inescapable

By: Koneko ^Å^ a.k.a. stefani teee ****

Koneko-chan Says! 

READ! OR MAY YOU FACE MY WRATH! (And that oh-so-lovely mallet I have yet to return to Akane…)

Stefani: Exams are almost over! *jumps for joy* NO MORE STUDYING LIKE I'M GOING TO DIE!

Heero-chan (always the pessimist): You've still got Physics.

Stefani: *sticks out tongue* Silence, lowly muse.

Chibi-Relena: *glares at Heero-chan* Hush, she has something to say to the readers.

Stefani: *pats Chibi-Relena on the head* Yes, actually I do. If you haven't already noticed, there will be some jumping around to different time periods so that several different people are going to be the current Chosen Ones. Otherwise, everything would be so abysmally repetitive and boring, both for me to write, and definitely for you to read.

Nanashi: *sighs* Just let them read the chapter then.

Stefani: *glares* I need to warn them!

Nanashi: Then warn them.

Stefani: In this chapter, it's mostly set when McGonagall is in her own sixth year at Hogwarts. An original character had to be invented of course, unless someone can provide me with the name of McGonagall's adolescent lover. While we're on the subject, McGonagall is _not_ an all-time stiff, for the most part, she _is_ fastidious of her school marks, but that doesn't mean she has to be a Golden Child. She can be as much a troublemaker as I want her to be, and I want her to be. In her own mind, she can be as much of a bitch as anyone else. We met her in her eighties teaching at Hogwarts with Harry, Ron and Hermione. I present her as a sixteen-year-old Minerva, goddess of 'I'm going to fucking kick your ass'.

Heero-chan: *raises eyebrows*

Chibi-Relena: *in side-whisper* She's been watching '_Fight Club_'.

Stefani: So once again! This story will jump to different time periods. The change will be shown by the following stars and… squiggles.

~*~*~*~

It was a showdown. It always was.

Sixteen-year-old Minerva McGonagall, completely and utterly hated, loathed, (and any other type of verb capable of bringing the point across that could be thought up) the smirking Slytherin sixth-year opposite the aisle from her in Transfiguration Class. She would have liked nothing more than to throw a particularly vicious hex in his direction. But as it was, with the Transfiguration professor breathing down their necks, waiting for the moment to jump down their throats for the least mistake, she kept her anger under control, and concentrated on the badger in front of her. He was to be turned into a brass teapot. Extra points were given if it were made into an extremely nice teapot. And she was an excellent Transfiguration student.

Too bad that arrogant Slytherin sitting almost next to her across the aisle was too. The two of them were mortal enemies, each vying for the highest marks in the school, against each other. It was no wonder, the thin line for the highest House points between Gryffindor and Slytherin had become ever more slimmer because of those two.

She hated him, for being her equal, stealing _her_ thunder which she had worked so hard for, being the middle child in a barely respectable wizarding family, money-wise. And even in the school where she was on her way to being considered the best in the history of Transfiguration, _he_ had appeared at the school, and she had literally saw her chance to be number one _squandered_. Of course, she had been made Head Girl, an honor she was still very proud of, but _he_ had been made Head Boy, and they had to share a common room no less! She was glad there were more things than just the several dozens of locks on her doors.

She wanted to break his fucking nose. Maybe then, she wouldn't be _quite_ so interested in watching his face whenever he turned to say something scathing to her. Because his face, not to mention the rest of him that she could see, was very much of attractive, the damned asshole that he was. Why was it that all the handsome, smart and witty ones were either gay or completely arrogant assholes?

"Is that a teapot or a fucking piece of scrap metal?" 

Exhibit A. Case closed.

So her teapot was too ornamental, but that was what the Transfiguration teacher liked. It never had been said that she was beneath a _little_ brown nosing.

"Mention one more thing about my fucking teapot, and I'll shove your wand so far up your ass you'll have to reach down your throat to get it back."

"Now I know just how much you want to touch my ass…" he drawled, a perfect imitation of what a future Draco Malfoy would sound like. But Draco Malfoy did not exist in this day and age. Sadly, Varien D'Akhor did. Stupid, pretentious, over-arrogant name, stupid, pretentious, over-arrogant boy he was as well.

She made her smile as poisonous as she could make it, "Sorry to disappoint you, but I have better things I want to do." Sadly, like watch his face… dammit, why did he have to be so fucking _gorgeous_?!

He was. Dark, dark hair, that was a deep enough red color it looked closer to black than the copper color that most red hair had. It reminded her greatly that someone had taken blood red rubies, and spun them into hair. It was long, and he kept it tied back in a queue. Dark, smoke-green eyes accompanied the hair, and beneath that, his lips were full, just keeping him on the border between adorably cute, and excruciatingly beautiful (in a masculine way of course) and sexy.

"I'm sure… like you can ever hope to get laid with any of those cake boys in that _Tower_ of yours."

Again, sadly, that was also true. Most of the male populations of Gryffindor Tower were more interested in each other than any of the female population. 

"D'Akhor, McGonagall, if you are so very inclined to whisper sweet nothings to each other during my class, I would ask you to leave."

The two of them broke off their whispered insulting of each other when they noticed the Transfiguration teacher, who had walked to the other end of the room to peer at another group of students, had somehow wormed his way back to their end of the classroom. "Sorry, Professor," the both of them chimed, pulling their best innocent faces on. However, both of their faces were not made for innocent looks, and the professor was not moved.

"Since you do not deem it necessary to pay attention to me during class, I think it necessary that you stay behind _after_ class to finish the work you have neglected. Twenty points from _both_ your houses."

Minerva felt her face burn, as she sent a sharp glare at Varien, then pointedly ignored him. "Go rot in a fucking hell," she muttered, burying her head in her arms.

Now, Varien D'Akhor was a normal, red-blooded, sixteen-year-old male. He knew he was dead sexy, and every female in the whole damned school knew it too. Except that same one who sat opposite him in the aisle in Transfiguration, the only class Gryffindor and Slytherin had together. Minerva fucking McGonagall. Damn it, as much as the Gryffindor males were more into each other than the opposite sex, their women were beautiful. And though the Slytherins had gorgeous, _straight_ men, their female populations left more to be desired. It would not have been much of a problem had the long-standing feud between houses not been in existence at all. But as it was, there really was not much that anyone could do about it. Nobody from one house got close to the other, other than to snub him or her.

And Minerva McGonagall _was_ gorgeous, believe it or not, with long black hair that she defiantly tied up in a tight ponytail to keep it out of her way, and beneath the hem of her black school robes, she wore large, black combat boots. She was beautiful in an 'I don't give a damn way'. _Roman goddess my ass,_ he thought to himself.

But it was inexplicably hard to discontinue to profane banter they both indulged in, during that one class. Maybe it was because that was the only way he could talk to her. Dammit, was he in love with her? He mentally groaned to himself. Of all people, it had to be a Gryffindor, and it had to be McGonagall. She was a tough one, she had a mind as sharp as her tongue. And he noticed things about her. This had been one of the signs that he had noticed about himself that he was desperate to try and ignore. If he wasn't concentrating on her legs whenever she crossed them, and he caught sight of the slim, slightly tanned skin between the bottom of her gray-plaid skirt and the high tops of her boots, then he was watching her eyebrows furrow in concentration over her work. This was when she avoided the buttons on her school robes, and kept them closed with just the one clasp at the top.

And so, he wasn't _extremely_ upset when the Transfiguration teacher told them both to stay in after class. It was stupid, he knew, and he certainly did think she was a pain in the ass, but… well… she was something. Perhaps it was because she was the only one, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, _or_ Hufflepuff that didn't pay any attention to his good looks. It was… unnerving, to say the least. Did she have hormones at all? On second thought, he did not want to hear the answer to that. Still… the girl had great legs.

If Minerva had known about the previous thoughts running through his head, she would have wanted to do more than break his nose. But she did not know, and that was a blessing for Varien D'Akhor.

However, she knew very well why the Transfiguration teacher wanted them to stay behind after class. It had been a week ago that he had sprung the news on the two of them, telling them that they were 'Potentials', whatever the hell _that_ meant, the professor had _never_ been fond of details, except in the telling of his tale. And now, after being in a flurry of confusion the entire week, he had actually decided, perhaps, to finish it.

It had taken forever for the man to remember that he had wanted the two of them to know about the 'unusual circumstances' that surrounded their being at Hogwarts, as soon as possible. It had been a fucking week. The man was an idiot. He would be sacked by the end of this year.

But Varien honestly _did_ want to hear about the story of the Four Founders, as uncut and unedited as it could be from _Hogwarts: A History_.

It seemed like it took forever for the classroom to empty out, especially with the crowds of other students just waiting to laugh at them, and it took the professor long enough to take the cue and yell for them all to leave them be.

Then finally, _finally_ he began.

"Hrmm, hmm… where did I leave off again?"

__

I think McGonagall and I shared our own private moment of falling face-first into our desks in exasperation, he thought blandly, shaking his head at the professor.

"They were going back to the castle, Professor."

"Oh, were they? Well then… hrmm… hmm… what happened next… oh yes…"

Then this time, he really did begin. He was beginning to get on both their nerves. And when you have _both_ the Head Boy and Girl against you, you knew you were in trouble.

"Helga accepted them into the fold without much question, which was most unlike her, and Salazar suspected that the goddesses had worked some sort of magic over her as well. But there was, of course, plenty of room for the two new additions to the Founders, and once they were comfortable with their abilities to Call an element, the work to build a school of Magic began in earnest.

"Rowena Ravenclaw, though stripped of the lovely white aura of moonlight that had once surrounded her, making her glow, was still a very beautiful woman, and she was soon friends with Helga, with a companionship that bordered on rivalry. At the beginning, Salazar and Godric had been the greatest of friends, and Salazar had at the least been tolerant of the younger man's first magic blunders. For had he not made these same blunders as he learned his own limits of his magical power? But it had soon become the truth that Godric Gryffindor was nothing like Salazar Slytherin and would rebel any given fact that he taught him, with arguments of his own. He was, in a word, a rash sort of fellow, but that did nothing to stop him from exuding all his charm. For the man was a charming fellow, and not completely unpleasant to look at.

"But the lad worshipped the ground Salazar walked upon, despite his continuous arguments with him. Salazar had a brilliant mind, and while they were all making grand discoveries in the hidden world of magic, he would lead the two 'Changed Ones' through their life as a magic worker. Rowena Ravenclaw was as much as in love with Godric Gryffindor as Selene had been in love with Endymion. Salazar had encouraged it, especially knowing what the goddesses of Memory and Oblivion had told her. That if she made this choice, there would always be her love for him, but it would be unrequited. And he wanted, more than anything, for her to be happy.

"Of course, he was only a mere mortal, powerful a wizard though he may be, and he had no control over the Fates, who continued spinning their threads of human life, measuring and cutting them away from the mortal world ruthlessly. He created the catalyst that would bring their reign over the newly established Hogwarts crumbling down. He created the Love Potion.

"He had been very aware of what it was for, but there had been no Ministry then, no difference between Dark and White Magic, there was only the continuing of creation. And he had been the one to discover this mysterious draught that could manipulate the human emotion. That had been about the time that Godric and he had been in one of the biggest arguments of their long stay at Hogwarts.

"Godric wanted nothing to do with the potion, saying it was horrible to make a person love another against their will. But Rowena Ravenclaw was miserable, because it had been only days ago before the discovery of the Love Potion, that Godric had rejected her. And Salazar had been Rowena's comfort. He loved her, no longer as a goddess, but as one of his truest friends. And so, he was desperate to help her by then, and the administration of the potion was given to Godric Gryffindor, the incantation was spoken, and Godric Gryffindor was left in his chambers sleeping a magic-induced sleep. Salazar had arranged everything so that Rowena would be the one to wake him, for his eyes to see her first.

"But somehow Godric found out, during that sleep of his where the sweet poison slowly swept through the whole of his body. He somehow knew… and when Rowena entered the room, he kept his eyes closed. He sent her away.

"And Salazar walked in."

By this time, Minerva and Varien were hanging onto his every last word. But he stopped there, and despite their mutual protests, told them, "The rest of the tale you will find on your own. As well as the seers can read the portents, there can always be mistakes. And if you are not the Chosen Ones, the "

"Professor… what _is_ a Potential?" asked McGonagall slowly. She had a faint idea that this would _not_ be pleasant… not at all.

"A Potential, McGonagall, were, still are in fact, the potentials for the Heirs of both Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"What about Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff?" Ah, McGonagall, feminist to the core. Or so it had been in those days.

The Transfiguration teacher smiled, shaking his head. He understood her better than most of the other professors in the school, and his voice was gentle, "They were women… they would not have had heirs."

Well, at least it made something that resembled sense…

__

Wait… does this mean that… She looked up at the Professor in horror, "Do you mean to tell me, Professor… that I… Varien and I… _might_ be Slytherin and Gryffindor's heirs?"

"Yes…"

"And… what does that mean…?"

It was beginning to dawn on Varien too… and he wasn't by far a slow one. They shared a mutual look of horror, before turning back to face the professor.

"It means… that… well, the same circumstances will fall upon you two as it did upon Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin."

Blinking, McGonagall shoved a lock of long black hair out of her face. "You mean… I have to fall in love with Varien?" her words were barely a whisper, and Varien's eyebrows were raised.

The professor hesitated, before sighing. "Yes… even though you're only a Potential _now_… and even more if you turn out to be Gryffindor's Heir."

"Right…" She stood up, gathering up her things, "I'm going back to my dormitories… I need to… think…"

Her large boots made solid clunking sounds as she exited the room.

Varien moved slowly to his feet, and gather up his own things, "Professor… is this really… fair?" he asked, well aware of how strange it was for a Slytherin to be contemplating the points of fairness.

"No it's not. But Fate might have chosen you two, and if it has, then it is beyond the control of any mortal, wizard or Muggle. The gods themselves decided this, and it does not bode well for mortals who defy them too much. Perhaps you will be the Potentials to rise in power to that of the Chosen Ones, and be the one to end this inescapable circle of love, power and destruction. It can be hoped."

Varien left that classroom feeling rather rumpled in spirit. He was neither as pretentious, nor as much of an asshole as he appeared to be, and he certainly had not wanted to have McGonagall lusting after him because of something the Fates had decreed.

It was later that night, as the students were trooping back from dinner (in which he noticed that McGonagall had been missing from the Gryffindor table) that a First Year Ravenclaw, who had lost her necklace in the corridors, found McGonagall and had run shrieking back into the Great Hall.

He had dashed to the scene, along with most of the remaining students left in the Great Hall, with the professors, and found her, her body twisted into an unnatural position, so that it looked like she'd been thrown to the ground. Her hair had escaped its tight ponytail was spread out around her, and her wand lay only a few inches away from her hand. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing ragged.

The mediwizard bundled forwards, pushing the students out of his way if they didn't clear out fast enough, "All right, now what's the problem…" he muttered. The man seemed to have a permanent chip in his shoulder. He examined her, and sniffed, "Girl was in a duel… that's a sleep spell, that there is."

Wand held out in front of him, he muttered (he always muttered, never said anything at a normal volume) the counter-spell, before shoving it back into his pocket. "Bloody kids… getting themselves into these stupid duels, not caring that they'll get hurt and be sent to _me_…" he stood up, and walked off.

The mediwizard was regarded in much the same way as an Argus Filch and his cat would be in the not-so-distant future by the students. It was a mercy he would be leaving the next year.

But Minerva McGonagall was waking up, and she was stirring. The other students were continuing on their way, complaining about the lack of excitement. They didn't even know who the coward who'd run from the duel was. A waste of time.

But Varien continued to stand there, as still as the stone statue beside him, watching her, with the Transfiguration professor bending down over her, helping her sit up.

It might have been coincidence, but for some reason, he had a strange uncertain feeling that he was right.

It was all starting. The 'circumstances' that the professor had talked about. He had found Gryffindor's Potential lying there in a magic-induced sleep, somewhere in between sleeping and waking.

~*~*~*~

"If I really _am_ a Potential to be Slytherin's Heir, who is Gryffindor's?" demanded Snape, after McGonagall had left him with the remnants of an unfinished story.

McGonagall frowned, "I will tell you the truth, Snape, because I think you deserve to hear it. You are different from the rest of the line of Potentials I have ever known. Potentials are always attending Hogwarts students, usually of the higher years, and usually when the portents reveal the prospect of a Potential, there has always been another Potential found. You are different… you were the only one found. There is no other."

Snape blinked, "But then… how would I have the chance to be Slytherin's heir if there is no prophecy to fulfill?"

McGonagall shrugged, but her brow was furrowed as she pondered the same mystery that had puzzled the seers when they'd spoken to the Headmaster. "I… don't know… but we found you. And we will have to look even harder for the Gryffindor Potential."

Snape nodded once, taking his leave of McGonagall's office. He certainly did not need this on his mind, especially when he had his own things to deal with. Lucius Malfoy had only recently graduated from the school… and his promises of power and knowledge were sweeter than a siren's song… and even more deadly. For he found he was slowly being drawn into that circle of darkness that was only just beginning to cause a whisper of apprehension amongst the populations of the wizarding world… and that meant that he would have to choose his own loyalty soon.

He had been in the presence of Lord Voldemort only once… and that one time had brought such a longing to serve beneath such a powerful man. He could do it… he could conquer the entire world, and they, his followers would reap the rewards alongside him. And Severus Snape could be right there amongst the throng.

Shoving his way past a group of giggling witches crowding round that rutting bastard Black, he made his way to the Slytherin common room, flinging himself into a chair that was near the fire, and immediately wished he hadn't. The chairs, like the rest of the furniture in the Slytherin common room were all dark Victorian horrors. There was no such thing as even a cushion on any of them. A sofa? Not likely. So, wood. All of them.

He slowly pulled the left sleeve of his Hogwarts robes off, baring his forearm. He stared at it silent and brooding, turning the decision over and over in his head.

He had been right. He did _not_ need to know that he was a Potential when he was about to make one of the biggest decisions in his life.

~*~*~*~

"Miss Granger, if you would be so very kind to _sit down _and_ be silent_, you will do this entire class a favor. No one likes such an incessant know-it-all."

The class contained the low growl that would otherwise have been let loose upon the indifferent Potions Master. It just goes to show that they all preferred the 'incessant know-it-all' to that 'damned greasy-haired git with something permanently stuck up his ass'. Hermione slowly put down her hand, but she continued to sit there glowering at him. And over the years of standing up to most of Harry and Ron's more nefarious (or insane and/or stupid) schemes, she had produced a very firm glower.

However, Professor Snape had had many more years than she to perfect his own glower… he glowered right back.

And Draco Malfoy, sitting in the back of the Potions classroom had a very nasty grin aimed in her direction. She glowered at him too. She hated double Potions with the Slytherins. And yet year after year, she continued to be with them. The Fates were against her.

Snape spent a few more seconds glaring at the Gryffindor side of the classroom, before he went back to cross-questioning poor Neville shaking in his… were those fluffy pink bunny slippers?

Hermione stared at Neville's strange choice of footwear. _Oh… Malfoy's been after him again…_ A quick flick of her wand, and the clothes-change spell was countered, and his original shoes came back. Unfortunately, Snape had taken notice of Neville's fluorescent-colored shoes also. Which meant he had also noticed when they had changed back.

He literally pounced at the chance to ridicule her. "Miss Granger, as it is well within the expansive range of your knowledge that when I am teaching a class, that I _do not _tolerate any other spells in my classroom I think I find it well within reason to tell you that you have now lost Gryffindor house thirty points. As well as earned yourself a detention. Now take your books and leave my class. Immediately." He was well pleased with his statement, as it left the girl in some semblance of abject shock.

In the back of the classroom, the Slytherins engaged themselves in laughing at Hermione's expense, as she slowly packed up her books, shocked at being sent out of class for the first time, especially for such a small incident. But when Snape turned his back on her, effectively dismissing her, and continued to 'discreetly mention' to Neville of every single one of his faults. Then allowing the other Slytherins to pick on his as well with nothing more than a withering glance at the poor boy's direction and a spiteful comment, he lit the fuse, and Hermione exploded. 

Call it Gryffindor bravery (or stupidity, one or the other works just as well in either case), it took two seconds for her to cross the length of the table, and another split second for her hand to connect with the Potions Master's face, with surprising venom. The resulting "SMACK!" left the class speechless.

The moment her hand connected with his face however, the world exploded into flashes of the brightest of lights and she suddenly found herself in something that resembled an out-of-body experience, staring as the briefest flash of her locked in what looked like a passionate liplock with Snape. She jerked away immediately, and she was returned to the Potions classroom, the class still staring at her, and Snape… Snape!

He was staring at her with the same horror in his eyes that she _knew_ was in her own. Oh god… _he_ had seen _it_ too…! She was out the door before she knew what was happening, her books and other school items lying forgotten on the Potions classroom floor. Even the sound of feet after her, which she guessed vaguely in the back of her mind were Harry and/or Ron, were becoming distant as she fled for the Gryffindor common room. She shuddered. The idea of snogging _Snape_ of all people! It was just _wrong_… she shuddered again, increasing her speed ever the more.

What the _bloody_ hell had that been? Some sick fantasy derived from the deepest hell of her worst nightmare? Her sneakers squealing against the floors as she screeched to a stop in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, she gasped out the password, and ignoring the Lady's protests and astonished questions at Hermione's rumpled appearance, she dashed in without another word. Flying up the staircase the girls' dormitories, she flung herself on her bed. Drawing her pillow over her head, she hid beneath it like a child, listening to nothing more than the pounding of her own heart. That same scene replayed over and over and _over_ in her head, like some stupid quirk with an old VCR stuck in repeat.

What the hell, what the hell, what the _hell_?!

She distantly heard the portrait door close itself, and even more vaguely heard something that sounded like a giggle from the Fat Lady, but that was all. She burrowed deeper into her bed, huddling into a ball, her head still hidden beneath her pillow. _Now_ what was she supposed to do? This was more than a black mark on her record… she had just physically assaulted a teacher! _Harry_ at least had had the excuse of fighting for his life… what could _she_ say? Could she be expelled for something like this? Have detention for the rest of her stay at Hogwarts? Be designated Filch's helper after every class?

There was a knock at the door, and she groaned, "I don't want to talk to you now Harry… I really, _really_ don't need to hear it."

"I have never desired to change my name to something as nastily common as 'Harry', Granger." drawled a very, _very_ familiar voice.

Hermione's head shot up from her bed, ready to unleash her anger at _him_ as well, and she whirled round to face Draco Malfoy leaning on the doorframe. He held up two slim fingers, "That's two of us that you've managed to slap without getting your arse kicked out of this school. That's some talent."

"What the heck are you doing here Malfoy?" she asked groaning, vaguely wondering where her wand had gone to. Was it with the rest of her things in… where were the rest of her things? She decided that was a mystery not to be puzzled over until the hated Slytherin melted away from the Gryffindor dormitories.

He shrugged, "First time I've ever seen it happen. Snape being shell-shocked enough to _not_ take away points from Gryffindor. He was even out of it enough when he came relatively back to his senses to send _me_ to get you and get Crabbe and Goyle to catch your two sidekicks, and bring them back to class."

"The… password?" The story was bizarre enough without her having to comprehend anything more than comparatively mundane facts.

His face cracked into his trademark Malfoy smirk, managing to make it look both refined and… snarky at the same time. "It was rather easy, I must say. Your portrait is a woman after all."

Hermione grimaced, "You chatted up a _portrait_?!" she asked, in undisguised disbelief.

Draco shrugged, "Might as well get a peek at the hated Gryffindor common room. Comfy, I must say. A tad red though."

Hermione was amazed to find that she had slipped into something that vaguely resembled the teasing banter she exchanged with Harry. It was time to get back to the subject at hand… or else who knew what secrets the Slytherin might wring out of her?

"You're here to tell me what an idiot I am, insult me a few times more about anything involving my appearance, call me a Mudblood, then leave me in utter misery aren't you? Why don't you get at it?"

He shrugged, "Basically. But the job description was to 'make you feel better'. As much as it might amuse me, I plan to retain the ability to get out of Potions Class like this more than once in my career, thank you very much." He sketched a melodramatic bow. "Now, how I would ever have taken on this would normally be beyond me… but…" he grimaced. "Gods Granger, _Snape_?" he looked very much of disgusted.

If her eyes could widen any more, they would have. But as it was physically impossible, she settled for keeping them as wide as was physically possible. "Bloody hell did _you_ see that too?" she groaned, slumping back down against the bed. "Dammit, the rest of the class too?" She hid her face in her pillow.

"That's what I wanted to ask you about actually, Granger. No one else, except Potter (and might I mention Snape) seemed to get that very same look of… horror? No, that's too emotionally charged… I think it was a shared look of abject distaste, in which I detected on my own face as well."

Hermione found it actually _was_ possible for her eyes to widen to even greater astronomical proportions at this news. "Oh gods… _Harry_ saw…?" she groaned, hugging her pillow against her chest.

"Oh don't get your knickers all in a bunch," Draco replied offhandedly. "No one else seemed to notice… not even the Weasel. He was silently cheering for you when you left…"

She glared at him. "Did the fact that I'm Harry's girlfriend not occur to you?" she snapped, throwing the pillow at him. "I'll thank you to keep out of my love life when all you've been known to do is screw Pansy Parkinson."

Draco caught the pillow, but his face twisted into that of great disgust again, "Oh not you Gryffindors _too_," he groused, "Has that silly bint managed to convince you people that I've got not a speck of taste more than that?"

He walked closer to her, tossing the pillow back at her, and sitting, without leave on Lavender's bed, shoving a scanty silk negligée out of the way (before turning and staring at it with a raised eyebrow then a shake of his head). "I don't want to know who she's been 'dressing down' for."

"Nor is it any of your business," Hermione added, grabbing her pillow back.

"Touché."

She crossed her arms, "Now that you've told me the reason you're here, you can now discreetly get out of here and go back with your Slytherin friends and continue wishing to be a Death Eater, where you belong."

His reaction was not as she'd expected. In a single bound he was on his feet in front of her, pale gray eyes snapping. "You think I'm like them?" he asked, tersely, anger underlining every word he said, "You think I scuttle around our damned common room whispering about how great it would be to grovel at Voldemort's feet? You think I _want_ to marry Pansy Parkinson? Bloody hell, Granger, you're not an idiot… did you honestly believe that I would have had any other _choice_ in the matter?"

She leaned back away from him, balancing on her arms, keeping herself as far away from his as was possible without changing her seating position. No… no this was not what she had expected. Draco Malfoy was supposed to be an arrogant bastard, insult her, insult her House, insult her friends… not reveal things to her to open her eyes to the fact that she had been blinded by the old House rivalry from the truth. They weren't just 'the enemy', they had sides to them that she had never known, nor ever cared to learn. Until now.

"Goddamn Granger…" he petered off, backing away. "But then what the hell would you know?" he asked, and she was shocked to hear a tinge of bitterness in his words. "You're the smartest girl in the school, getting the credit for everything… you and Potter and Weasley… all of you… always having everything go your way, the Incredible Potter and his two sidekicks who can do no wrong in Dumbledore's eyes."

He turned away from her, facing the door. "You wouldn't know anything about being in Slytherin," he finally said, "It means being able to sacrifice everything including what you care about for your goals, about doing everything you possibly can to gain them. But I've lost those goals Granger… and I've realized I'm being led through life with a leash."

She stood up, "You're right, I _wouldn't_ know what it's like to be in Slytherin." She replied, "But I know what it's like in Gryffindor. We aren't always brave, and reckless, we're keen on thinking things through, and we've all got our weaknesses, our fears, and our despairs, same as you. You probably wouldn't have seen any of it, unless you can read it off our faces, we can hide all of it as well as all the things you told me that you've hidden in the past. You know of Harry's story, and of his fame," she ignored his look of blatant distaste, and continued on, "but you don't know how hard it is for him to care, _really_ care about someone. Ron and I… we're his best friends, and he liked us, and trusted us, but when it comes to more important things, he'll keep to himself." She smiled wryly, "You don't know _how_ long it took for my discreet prodding to take effect and make him ask Cho Chang to the Yule Ball." She frowned, "Then the silly bint actually went and told him she was already going out with Cedric Diggory. All my hard work gone to waste."

Draco frowned, "But _you're_ going out with him now…"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Yes, only in name." She replied, shrugging. "I mean, he's my best friend, and honestly I'd do anything for him… but seeing as he's such a celebrity…" She pointed an accusing finger at him as Draco rolled his eyes to keep him silent. "And the press would go insane to find out he's lusting after—" she stopped short, eyes wide. 

Draco raised an eyebrow, "He's lusting after…?" gesturing for her to continue.

"No one of your concern," she replied hastily.

He shrugged. "So what you're saying is that I've not a clue about what it means to be Gryffindor?" He turned round, "What have I missed…?" his tone had a slight edge of his old mockery.

She shook her head, in mild exasperation. 

"And what would be Weasley's sob story?"

She responded promptly, "He's always in the shadow of everyone else in his family, and even when he achieves something, _someone_ has already done it before him, and no matter how hard he tries to be, it's hard to be his own man being best friends with Harry." She paused, taking a breath, noticing that he had turned round and was watching her with those strange gray-blue eyes of his intently, "You never knew us, any of us, either… you had no right to judge us."

As the silence settled after her prolonged speech, she colored, and began digging into a drawer on her bedside shelf, finding something to keep her hands occupied.

"Maybe you're right." She stopped moving for a full second, before turning slowly to face Draco. He had a strange look on his face, "You… you _agree_ with me?"

He shook his head, and a wry grin crossed his face, "Not completely… despite all your grand words about him, Weasley's plight does not impress me."

Hermione rolled her eyes turning away, "It figures you would take something like this and use it to insult Ron in front of me."

"What's yours then?"

"Me?"

Draco nodded, nailing her with those gray-blue eyes of his again. "You… your… everything…"

She looked away from him. 

"Magic means everything to me… I love being a witch, I love knowing everything I can about the wizarding world… but no one else I know can understand it. I mean, you've known about it all along… I didn't even know any of this existed until my Hogwarts letter came round. And I can't speak any of it to my Muggle friends who I used to share everything with, my extended family… my mum and dad let me come here, but they don't approve of it. Always, always, I hear them talking to each other about how great a doctor I could be, what I help I would be in the medical profession. They make it seem like magic is only a hobby for me… and that it means nothing. And no one from the wizarding world understands why I still want to go back to the Muggle world anyway, except maybe Harry. Even _he_ doesn't hold the same respect for that world as I do. No matter what I do, it's never enough for anyone. And I hate it… but I still have to go on. I'd rather be Hermione Granger obnoxious know-it-all than Hermione Granger nothing-at-all."

Draco's eyes were boring into her back and she could _not_ leave her soul bared like that. 

"Although," she muttered, "I assume Snape would be all too ecstatic to have me as much a dimwit as Neville."

Draco muffled a snort, before lapsing into silence. It was a very odd type of silence… as well as a very familiar type of silence. She was in Potions class all over again.

Bloody hell. 

"He's behind me isn't he?"

"Um… that would be a yes."

"And my opinion of your assumption about your comparison to Neville would be quite correct, Miss Granger." replied the oh-so-familiar snarkiness of Professor Snape.

She turned round to face him, noticing, with only a tinge of triumph, that there was still a red mark on his face. "Yes, Professor Snape?" she asked, innocently, sitting cross-legged on her bed. She could just _feel_ the halo glowing over her head.

He didn't answer her at first, but when he did, his words were slow and carefully thought out. 

"Miss Granger… you do realize that your actions could have decreased your House's points a hundred-fold? Not to mention earned you enough detentions to fill all your after-school activities' slots for the rest of the month?"

"Then why don't you?" she asked him dully, all the fight in her gone. All she wanted was for him to leave, and let her be in peace.

"Because, as hard as it is to say it, I believe you were right." 

The last few words were ground out of his mouth, and both Hermione and the forgotten Draco could tell _exactly_ how hard it was for the Potions Master to say.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

"I mean that… I wasn't entirely in the right when I sent you out of the class for helping Longbottom… and you were when you were standing up for the boy… god knows he needs it."

Hermione could barely believe that this really was a conscious reality and not some travesty of a dream.

"So I am withdrawing the detentions from you, but the previous thirty points stand. Now, there is something else I wished to speak of with you… in… private if possible."

They both turned to Draco who stared back at them for a moment before grinning, "_Oh_… the snog scene…" he grimaced, "Yes, I am leaving… and taking control of the common room."

Hermione blinked, remembering a slight detail, "If _you're_ here… where are the rest of the Gryffindors?"

Snape waved it off with a flick of his wrist, "One of the other teachers is taking care of my class. But there was something else… I'm sure you saw it…" a dry smile appeared on his face, "I was well aware of the look of abject horror on your face."

Hermione turned red.

"So I am correct in my assumption that you saw it too?"

"Yes."

For the first time since anything, Snape looked distinctly uncomfortable. He looked down at his hands, clasping them together before speaking again, slowly.

"There is something about me that not many people in this school are aware of, Miss Granger, and that is the fact that I am… _was_ a Slytherin Potential."

For the first time in a long time, Hermione had a blank look on her face. Snape groaned internally. Of course she wouldn't know what a Potential was, she had never heard the tale before. And he had no innate sense of storytelling like McGonagall.

"To make a long story short, a Potential has the chance of becoming the true Heir of either Gryffindor or Slytherin."

"What does… what did it have to do with…" she trailed off, "you know…?"

"It might not have anything to do with it at all… and then again it might have everything to do with it…" he swore, "Dammit, if it had to be true, why did it have to be one of my _students_? Didn't I already make enough stupid mistakes in the past to last me my lifetime?"

"Professor…?"

"A Potential, Miss Granger, is a Hogwarts student, usually sixteen or seventeen years of age, who has been chosen by the Fates, and foreseen by the seers. When one finds a Potential for one House, there has always been a Potential from the other to complete the circle. It was not so for me."

Hermione, despite what he thought of his own lack of tale spinning ability, was already enraptured by this new information, having never, _never_ heard or read of any mention of it in _Hogwarts: A History_.

"I was the only one, in the history of Potentials who was ever called upon as a Potential alone. They scoured the school for the Gryffindor Potential, looking through all of the Houses, because there had also been preceding cases of finding Potentials in other Houses. But there was only me. A Potential, Miss Granger has the chance to fulfill something, right some wrong that was made hundreds of years ago that has cursed the very base of the school itself. But I was alone, and alone there would be no 'circumstances' befalling me, no one to with me to make the circle turn another cycle. The seers thought it might mean the end of it all… because the last pair of Potentials at the school was McGonagall and D'Akhor and they…" he trailed off. "Well, they turned out not to be the Heirs, nor I, because nothing had changed by the time I had graduated from Hogwarts. A Potential's graduation marks the end of their chance to be an Heir."

"Do you mean that…" Hermione's eyes widened as wide as they possibly could as she swiftly put the pieces together. "But… Professor! You've already graduated and I'm… well, none of your seers have found anything special about _me_ have they?"

A new voice appeared in the conversation from the doorway where McGonagall was standing, her hair still tied up in the customary bun, and a serious expression on her face. "You will be brought to them, Miss Granger, and the truth will be found out."

Something struck her, and she exclaimed, "Professor McGonagall? _You_ were…"

"…Once a Gryffindor Potential? Yes… in fact, I was the one who told Severus here that _he_ was a Potential, when he was still in his own school days." 

She grimaced, "That makes me feel very old indeed."

"But then… you believe I might be Professor Snape's paired Potential too?" she grimaced, "And I have to _snog_ him? No offense meant Professor, but you're a little old for me." she was trying to keep everything light when all three of them _knew_, Hermione less than the two teachers, that it was _not_ going to turn out to be nothing. The Potentials and past Potentials had instincts. And they were very rarely wrong.

~*~*~*~

Well, you knew there had to be some Hermione/Snape happening, and it's begun! Ginny/Tom will appear later on, but you'll see. *grins* Wow, I have some experience in the whole mind-changing sector… this will _never_ turn out the way I imagined it firsthand at all. I can't decide whether or not that's a good thing or a bad thing.


	5. Chapter 4

****

Inescapable

By: Koneko ^Å^ a.k.a. stefani teee ****

Koneko-chan Says! 

Stefani: March break is coming! *is strangely optimistic*

Chibi-Relena: *blink blink* It's still the beginning of February.

Heero-chan: Don't even try to comprehend our mistress's mind. You'll never understand.

Nanashi: Priscilla has begun to have too much of an effect on her.

Heero-chan: *shakes head* Just continue writing. Optimism in you is vaguely frightening.

Stefani: *reads over previous K-chan Says* Aiii!!!! I forgot!

Chibi-Relena: Forgot what?

Stefani: 'Inescapable' is also based loosely on _Song in the Silence_ written by Elizabeth Kerner. Just in case you think I can _actually_ make up all this stuff about the _shakrim_.

~*~*~*~

When finally, the two teachers left Hermione alone, the other Gryffindor students were allowed back in their common rooms. It had been timed perfectly, it seemed. However they had not been happy to find Draco Malfoy lounging on one of the stuffed crimson sofas. And they had asked him very politely what "on God's green earth" was the reason he was making himself at home in the Gryffindor common room. His answer was flippant, "Plotting on how to steal several of your sofas, dye them green, and put them in _our_ common room."

Hermione appeared from the girls' dormitory at that moment, and Draco went silent, just as the rest of the Gryffindors erupted into loud cheers for Hermione (which ended abruptly when Snape and McGonagall appeared in the doorway behind her). "Classes will be beginning soon, so I expect you all to be as quick as you can about gathering your things. I do _not_ tolerate lateness in my class." McGonagall told them, her voice carrying as the three descended the staircase.

Snape, taking Draco with him, exited the portrait hole with great dignity, but as soon as it closed, the common room was rocked with cheers again, which McGonagall, straining to keep from grinning put an end to in a belated fashion.

It was only when McGonagall disappeared out the portrait hall as well to get to her classroom before classes started that the questions rose up. 

"What the hell happened?"

"Did we lose points?"

"Have you been suspended?"

"Why the hell was that bastard in here?"

"Hermione, can I talk to you?" 

This last was from Harry, and she nodded to him slowly, taking his hand and leading him back up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. As soon as the door was shut, she leaned back against it. "Malfoy told me you saw…" she turned red, as she came towards him. He was standing in the middle of the floor, watching her, and allowed her hands to caress his face. "And… I'm sorry, but I don't know _what_ the hell happened…"

He grimaced, "Hermione, 'that' as you call it was very disturbing."

His tone of voice calmed her, and she managed a timid grin, "Well it would have been even more disturbing to see _you_ snogging our Potions professor."

His face twisted into an even worse look of revulsion, "Disturbing mental picture… Hermione…!" he complained.

"So… you don't blame me then?" she asked quietly, brought back to the serious part of the conversation. "Even though _you_ saw it?"

Harry blushed, "Well… er…" he said, unintelligently, before shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. "Well, I guess… no I don't blame you… I mean, you know it really didn't happen, and you don't even know _why_ it happened and… well… I dunno, I mean you're one of my best friends and you even know about…" he turned red, "Well, you know… and really, if you _did_ have an illicit affair with one of our professors, I wouldn't really have much of a say in it will I? Except," he added, "If you're about to be expelled over him. Then I draw the line." 

The pounding on the door interrupted them, as Lavender's voice passed through the wood door, "So sorry to interrupt anything going on between you two lovebirds, but textbooks await in my trunk and I am not walking into anything that involves either of you without clothes."

The two of them turned bright red before Hermione called, "Oh just come in." The door was cautiously opened, and the girls trooped in, grabbing things from their chests, and throwing random things in the air as they sought to get at their textbooks. One random thing was a shiny red thong that unerringly landed on Harry's head.

He decided it was a very good time to leave, and dashed out, after throwing the slightly racy item to the ground. Hermione shook her head at the rest of the grinning and laughing girls, "You planned that didn't you?"

"Anything to make Boy Wonder feel uncomfortable." replied the irrepressible Gryffindor Patil twin.

"Now, all you have to do is tell us what the heck Snape did to you after you slapped him."

"Excuse me?"

Lavender waved it off, "Oh, he might have fooled the _boys_," she said, "but we're _female_, and that stunned look of his was very, very telltale."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione told them, but unable to keep a small grin off her face, "I suppose he's never had a student mad enough to slap him before."

"Ah! Ah! Come girls, see that face of hers? You noticed it too, and you're going to tell us what you know!" Lavender cried out triumphantly, pointing fingers at her. "Come on darling, you know you want to tell us what's going on…"

"We're going to be late for class though…" Hermione protested feebly. Even _she_ found that a weak excuse, especially for one whom had just slapped her teacher and stormed out of class. All took place just a couple of handfuls of minutes ago. Amazing.

Hermione Granger, badass.

Hmm…

It might work… for the time being. At the least, it would keep the girls off her backside.

"Sorry girls, I've got a little catching up to do with my poor boyfriend whom you so nicely scared off. Tell McGonagall I needed a little 'thinking time' if she asks."

Parvati's jaw dropped, "You're… you're _cutting class_?!" 

The way _she_ put it, it sounded like Hermione had just confessed she was the Dark Lord in disguise out to snatch their undergarments.

"I _do_ have such a wonderful excuse… I've got a talk coming up with our dreaded Potions Master. Wish me luck." She added dryly as she swept out the door.

"Y'know… I think she's finally grown a streak of what we know as 'bad'."

"She's going to detention! How bad is that?" humphed several other Gryffindors tearing around the dormitories frantically for lost or misplaced textbooks and parchments.

"Ah, but the question is… does she _have_ a detention with Snape, _now_?"

As it was, Hermione had no intention of going to class, and through Snape's surprisingly garbled descriptions, she had not discerned much information worthy of putting her mind at rest. As it was, she was going to investigate. There were two choices, the first being to face the Potions Master himself and demand more information (a choice that would involve much glaring at each other and cynical comments), or to go to the trusted school library (which would involve much rummaging).

She headed for the library. She hadn't been there for more than half a minute when…

"I'm so sorry, dear, but the library's closed for the next class while I sort things out…" 

Well, she hadn't _really_ wanted to flip through all those books anyway… 

Blast. Now she really _did_ have to go to Snape. She just hoped he wasn't having a class.

He didn't.

"Come in," he called irritably at her knock. When she poked her face around the door, he frowned even more, looking so much older than usual. How could she have ever even _thought_ of kissing this man? This man who was old enough to be her _father_? Er… well… perhaps a little younger than her father, but that was beside the point. 

"Sit."

She sat.

"What do you want?" he asked, though not unkindly.

"You said something… that I might be more than I ever dreamed I could be… and I want to know what that is."

His lips curled into a sneer, "So you believe you will attain so much power invested in you by some immortal being that you will be a goddess in the eyes of the entire wizarding world? Typical Gryffindor arrogance."

She glared at him, "If that was what I thought from the beginning, it would also mean that I would be sharing that throne of god(dess)dom with you beside me. And I already have a boyfriend, Professor." 

She tacked on that last, just to keep him from exploding. He was a male after all… and most males don't take kindly to being physically assaulted by women, and then later, verbally insulted.

"Ah yes, the famous Potter, Hogwarts' beloved celebrity." His tone was scathing. "Such a start in your climb for power, Miss Granger."

"If I wanted power, I would have gotten my grades by sleeping with the male half of the school teaching staff."

Then she realized just _whom_ she was talking to. And she turned red. "And… er… I'm not. For the record."

Snape had an almost overwhelming temptation to laugh. He settled for a cynical smile, "I should hope McGonagall's top student would never be desperate enough to attempt to seduce Professor Binns." He was flattered for his dry humor, by the brief look of pure revulsion on Hermione's face, then a small smile.

"I think you're right, Professor… but walking down that path leads us away from the question I asked. What do the seers have to find out about me?"

He sighed, "In my time at Hogwarts I was named the Potential of Slytherin, which meant that I had the possibility of becoming Slytherin's Heir. If that came to be, I _would_ indeed, have been invested with the same power with which the great Founder was gifted."

"You could have… open the Chamber of Secrets? And if you couldn't as a Potential, why could Ginny do it with Tom Riddle's help? Was _he_ the Heir of Slytherin?"

He waited till she had blurted out all her questions, before he began answering a few of them. "No, I could not have opened the Chamber of Secrets if I had even been sure it had _existed_ when I went to school, and not simply another fanciful fairytale. And though the Dark Lord was not the Heir of Slytherin, he had the one gift necessary to open that Chamber. You know what it is… your beloved _boyfriend_ has that exact same talent."

"Parseltongue…" whispered Hermione, as slowly, slowly the pieces knit themselves together. "So Harry _could_ have opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"Yes… which was why half the school, and even some of the staff, especially Argus Filch as you will recall, so easily believed that Potter was the Heir of Slytherin. Apparently, one does not need to be the Heir in order to open the Chamber."

"That makes the whole legend sound rather… cheap…" muttered Hermione. "No wonder, _Hogwarts: A History_ kept that fact downtrodden."

Snape allowed a smile, "I would agree with you."

"So… if I _am_ a Gryffindor Potential, as you and Professor McGonagall both believe I might be… there will be another Potential here too?"

"Yes."

"In _Slytherin_?"

"I was not aware that there are not a select few noteworthy males in my House." He replied, slightly affronted.

"Well, there may be… but I had this sudden, horrible image of snogging Crabbe or Goyle." She looked repulsed by her own treacherous imagination.

"Ah." That was all he could say to this turn of things. He imagined that the two boys, who were almost exactly the same muscle-bound lumpheads as their respective fathers, should be forbidden to breed. One could just think of the children. And shudder.

"What does a Potential have to… do?"

"As I've heard, you must figure out a puzzle… not that kind of puzzle," he added, as he saw the sudden glint of interested intelligence in Hermione's eye. "I assure you, the task seems quite impossible as generations of witches and wizards have tried to solve the mystery… you _do_ know the wrong that has taken place in this school have you not? I assume you might have figured it out?"

"It has something to do with Gryffindor and Slytherin, doesn't it?"

"Doesn't it always?" he remarked dryly, "I suppose, it would be right for you to be filled in about the history of the Potentials. But I am not going to tell you all of it, first of all, because it would take me more time than I'm willing to spare, and secondly, I do not believe in the whole romantic silliness of it all."

Hermione however, was a quick one. "McGonagall was a romantic?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have it, but she told me that she was the one who told you that you were a Potential. She would've told you the story wouldn't she?"

"Well yes she did… and I suppose it did take a long time… but that is beside the point."

She smiled. Once he had put away most of his classroom cynicism, he was a rather nice conversationalist, and she did well in her discreet teasing. Not many students had the linguistic talents, and the intelligence to match the Potions Master. But Hermione was Hermione. There could be no other.

"So what happened between the two Founders?"

"They were lovers." He replied flatly, as any normal male usually reacts to any mention of homosexuality.

There was only one thing to say to this. And Hermione said it. 

"Oh."

"And their disagreement about selection of students is well-known to anyone and everyone who was at this school in your second year, so you know Slytherin left. The Potentials will undergo the same trials more or less, what the two Founders faced. And they have to pass them, pass them all to change things. But it has never been done before. There were others of course, plenty of others, and they all failed to pass all of them. The only ones who came close were…" he trailed off, "Were Minerva McGonagall and Varian D'Akhor."

"Professor McGonagall? What was so special about them… what did they do to do be more than anyone else?"

He raised his eyebrows, "You have never known the real McGonagall," he told her coolly, "_You_ only know her as an old, strict Transfiguration teacher. You knew nothing of how she used to be when she was your age."

"And you did?" she asked cattily, rumpled over the fact that he could speak to her as almost something of an equal one moment, and then like she was a little girl the next. She could hold her own without his _completely_ unnecessary disdain.

He grimaced, "In fact, I did. She and Varien D'Akhor managed to get themselves sucked into a magical time maelstrom, and that led to the both of them dropping down into my rooms while I was… studying."

Hermione heard the slight catch in his voice, as well as the sudden flare of embarrassment in his face, but she chose to file that little tidbit away for now and ponder over it later.

"But what was so _special_ of them?" she insisted, having realized he had effectively evaded her question. "What did they _do_?"

"He'll tell you as soon as you _both_come with me."

They both turned to look at the doorway, where Hermione received the shock of her life, having never seen the dreamy-eyed Professor Trelawney outside the surreal realm which was her classroom. She immediately felt the same dislike wash over her as she waited to hear whatever the hell the silly old bat had to say.

Snape noticed the lack of affection lost between the two of them, and smiled inwardly, the two of them were two absolute opposites, it had been impossible from the start for Hermione Granger to mesh with Sybil Trelawney.

"Come with you where?"

Trelawney fixed Hermione with her beady gaze, and the look was undeniable unfriendly. "I'm afraid _my dear_," she uttered the endearment like a curse "that all I can say is that the seers have deemed you important enough to see _immediately_."

"And you're going to take us to them."

Trelawney glared at the girl, "Miss Granger, I had hoped that you would have learned enough about this school to know that appearances are not always as they seem. I have the true Eye, and disasters have always lain in the portents for the Potentials. I am here to make sure that you can avoid most of those that the Seers might predict. Come. Now." All traces of dreaminess and surrealism had dropped from the woman's face, and she was as lucid as the rest of us. Many true Seers usually go insane by the time they are in their early thirties. Hermione Granger could not appreciate the strength it took to bear the burden of the Sight on the shoulders of those like Sybil Trelawney.

"We're coming."

"Good." Professor Trelawney's response was curt, and she turned and stalked away, "Come quickly."

It was a long walk out to the edges of the school grounds where Professor Trelawney cast a mass teleportation spell. It called for the holding of hands. Hermione did not take kindly to the proffered hands of both her professors, but she did it without much verbal comment. Trelawney, because she was just a dreamy idiot, and Snape… well, that 'vision' as she now called it in her mind, had very much disturbed her. It had been, as her father would say, a bolt out of the proverbial blue.

Hermione 

His hand was warm. I had never expected it of him, he who had always lurked in the cold darkness of the dungeons. And in a strange way, it was comforting, a startling contrast to Professor Trelawney's, whose wrinkled hand, veined with blue ice, was frigid. In the back of my mind, I sensed power there, more than I could comprehend, and for the first time, something akin to respect crept into all the derision I had felt all these long years for her. 

But Snape's hand! I felt something that shot through me, sent every nerve in my body tingling, and as we surged through the air at speeds I could not even comprehend, I knew he felt that same sense of _belonging_. Never had I ever felt like I belonged. Not in my own world, where I had always been different, apart from everyone else around me, even in my earliest years. Nor did I really belong in the world of Magic, though I prefer it, because of people like the Malfoys, who like to torment those who are different from them. It did not last, and at the first moment possible, as soon as we reached our destination, he wrenched his hand away as if burned. I never knew I could have that effect on anyone, much less on one of my professors.

Trelawney followed soon after, staggering a few steps. I had read enough about it that mass teleportation took powerful magic indeed, and not many wizards had that much power at their disposal. But what I had… _felt_ in Professor Trelawney seemed almost limitless. And that scared me, as much as I hated to admit it. Dammit, I just couldn't _hate_ her like I used.

Severus 

I never thought it was possible. Years of being celibate and the mere touch of a younger woman's hand had nearly brought me down to my knees wanting. And in the midst of all this, I had the impossible feeling of _safety_. I have never been safe, no, not even in my younger years when the mention of Death Eaters did not bring a look of horror on one's face. And still, she held something in her, this strange woman-child that had tormented my days by matching her wit and intelligence with my own.

Whatever the case, I _felt_ myself becoming surer and surer that I was not wrong, that this was the girl who would share in my part of the prophecy. She was a student. _My_ student. For this, I could lose my job, and all old alliances raised out into the open by frantic parents. The Fates are cruel, spinning their webs of intrigue and mystery, and their threads of life and death.

~*~*~*~

Stefani: *shrugs* Not the most opportune place to end it, but I've taken awhile, and besides, the chapter was getting long.

Heero-chan: *grumbles* Just admit it. You wanted her to update. *continues grumbling*

Nanashi: *sigh*

Chibi-Relena: Bye!

(Always the cheery one that one.)


End file.
